


Hanged Man (No fool)

by DarlingLisa



Category: Dark Tower - Stephen King, Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen, Gunslinger 'verse, I blame Haven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:52:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarlingLisa/pseuds/DarlingLisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fic: Dark Tower/Leverage, author's choice, hanged man (no fool) </p>
<p>Every journey begins somewhere, this is where our story begins.  A man alone, a quest begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hanged Man (No fool)

**Author's Note:**

> Its just under a thousand words, and its Gunslinger Eliot set in the world of The Dark Tower. I don't even know.. blame Haven, she started it way back in Denver at WinCon. If you happen to be a Dark Tower purist you prolly won't want to read this... its mostly a Leverage fusion, although there may be some crossover with other characters. And I am going to play merry hell with the time line in the books (I already have in this bit, lol)

It was a foolish deed fit only for un-blooded boys or suicidal idiots. He could hear the voice of his arms master in his ears as he strode across the hall, every lesson about strategy and choosing the field of battle ringing loud as the sabbath bells. But yet, he continued, his coat billowing around him and the spurs on his boots striking loud against the floor. 

The man in black stood in the shadows, waiting. At his feet lay an empty shell. Long limbs gone stiff with death, skin pale and waxen, eyes darkened, never to light again. 

They told Eliot it was an accident, a mistake in the kitchen, no fault of anyone's. But he knew that this was a dream... a green dream of poisons and plots, of journeys not yet begun and heartaches untold. And in the way of dreams, he knew that the man in black was dreaming of him as well. 

As he came to a halt across the body of his childhood friend from the man in black, he drew a deep breath and centered himself before lifting his eyes to stare directly into the sorcerer's. 

But what he saw instead was a pale hand shuffling a deck of Taro cards and laying them out on a red damask tablecloth. 

"Seven will I read," the man in black said, his accent thicker than normal, his voice low and steady, "And seven you will know. It is not often I offer such an advantage... but take care Gunslinger. Worlds revolve around you, and seven is an unlucky number for thursday's child."

The first card appears, and Eliot sees himself hanging upside down from a gallows.

"The Hung Man," the man in black chuckles and Eliot's skin crawls from the sound as it washes over it. It feels foul like a dark dungeon overrun with cock-a-roaches and spiders. "No need to worry my friend. As much as I would love to see you dance at the end of a rope, in this case it betokens strength, not death. And strength you will need."

The next card shows a slight figure adrift in the sea, blonde hair floating upon the waves and a tiny arm reaching out for help. There is a shadow of a sunken ship in the background.

"The Sailor, now this is interesting. Indeed. Will you throw out a line to one in need? Or will you allow yet another to fall in sacrifice to your quest?"

Eliot's heart trips as the words fall from the sorcerer's lips and he feels his fingernails cutting into the palms of his hands. He is almost grateful when the next card is turned over, although he has no idea why the curly haired man is cowering before a baboon with a whip. 

"Now here," the man in black's voice is almost silibant with joy, "Look at this poor bastard. The Baboon. Needs and desires confused with wanting to forget and not realzing the path to forgiveness is paved in blood and tears."

The next card is flipped over quickly, laid along side the Baboon so they are touching. In it a brunette works a spinning wheel while a blue plate lies broken at her side.

"The Lady of Shadows. Notice that her true face is hidden. And the strands she spins are more than pretty doss, heed her well Gunslinger, or rue the day."

The final three cards are placed in rapid succession. A hooded figure against the backdrop of a starry sky, his scythe clutched tightly in his hand. A massive tower of glass and metal soaring high into the blue sky. The sun setting on the horizon over a field of red poppies.

"Death. But not for you. You will choose Gunslinger, and one will fall. One.. but perhaps more." The man in black shook his head slightly and took a deep breath as if tiring. "The Tower. This is the alpha and omega. You dare not enter, but should you fail, all will fall. Worlds and worlds within. And finally, Life. But again, not for you. The flowers look like a field of blood, don't they? All is not as you think, and in the end, all things serve the beam."

Looking up from the cards, Eliot realizes that they stand in the field of the last card. He can smell smoke on the breeze, and there is a chill in the air that means summer is giving up to fall. Looking back towards the man in black, he sees that the cards have disappeared, only three are left, their faces hidden. 

"Why?" Eliot growls, his frustration clear. 

"Because... I grow bored of this world. This is the beginning's end dear boy, and you, you are the instrument of fate, chosen and called. You could be their saviour... or the instrument of their destruction. And I? I will thwart thee, at every turn." Tapping the cards in front of him one by one, the man in black considers him for a moment more before speaking again. "You will draw three to your cause. Chose wisely, choose well. Two are pre-destined, but your ka-tet will be incomplete if you do not recognize the third."

With a wave of his hand, the table and the cards disappeared, and black lightening struck the ground where the man in black had stood seconds before.

Waking as if someone had thrown a bucket of water into his face, Eliot sat up instantly, hand reaching past the empty gunbelt at his hip and down to the knife sheathed along his thigh. But there was no one across the fire from him, and the only sounds were the pop and crackle of the wood burning and the sound of ravens flying across the empty sky. There were however faded footprints in the desert sand, leading away from the fire, to the West and the Unnamed Lands. 

The man in black fled across the desert, and the Gunslinger followed.


End file.
